A Potterlock
by Zeef
Summary: After John got blasted at the Quidditch World Cup, he felt absolutely useless. With a psychosomatic limp and a shaking in his hand, he had no hope of getting on the House team. Suddenly, his cousin introduces John to a very interesting Ravenclaw. Soon he finds himself swept up in the crazy life of his new 'study buddy'. Basically follows the layout of the TV series. No pairing.
1. A Beginning

Hello! This is my first story on any site, so I am very excited! This was written for my friend because she loves both Harry Potter and Sherlock. They are in shorter sections than I usually write because the chapters had to fit on one piece of paper. Also this is all on my phone. Anyway, sorry to bore you. Please enjoy and review and/or follow! It gets as it goes along.

* * *

A Beginning

There were burning tents everywhere. People screamed, running chaotically, under the blood red sky. His sister was being held in the air by Death-Eaters. Fire was everywhere. A Death-Eater suddenly appeared in front of him, and there was a bright flash of light as his shoulder exploded.

John shot up. He'd had that dream again… Shaking his head, he looked over to see his little sister Harriet sitting next to his bed.

"'M alright, Harry. Really," John Watson said. The youngest Watson looked unconvinced.

"You didn't take your nightmare medicine," she replied.

"I must have forgotten."

"Johnny!"

"I'm sorry sis… It's just that…" John faded off, not really wanting to continue the sentence.

Harriet sighed and said, "It's alright, Johnny… Just remember to take it next time, okay?" She commanded. John nodded. Harriet patted him on the head and left.

It was John's first night back from St. Mungo's Hospital and he'd taken the slight freedom to avoid taking his dream potions. He didn't like how they effected his brain.

John wiped his face with his hands. He just wanted the pain to end. First his shoulder got messed up, then his leg stopped working, and lastly his nightmares practically kill him at night.

"Why me," he asked himself. One thing FINALLY happened to him and he almost died. John shook his head and smiled sadly,

"Nothing ever happens to me."


	2. An Idea

John frowned at the steep, tight stairway leading into the Hogwarts Express. Harriet was already on board with their trucks. She had insisted on taking up the heavy things for her stubborn brother. Now John stood alone with a bag over his uninjured shoulder and his cane in hand, preparing himself for a difficult year. It had been a while since he'd come home from the hospital, and as much as he was excited about being in the magical world again, and for Harriet to start her first year, he knew school was going to be hard. The Slytherines were going to laugh at him, and his friends were going to be over protective.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice his cousin, Amelia, snuck up behind him.

"Hellooo," Amelia said in his left ear. John jumped and said,

"Whoa! Oh hi, Amelia." Now that he was done 'day-dreaming' he started up the steps.

"Is there any way I can help?" Amelia asked, being her usual, impatient Slytherine self.

"No thank you, I'm fine," John Watson replied, "Just give me a minute."

"I'll go up another stairway and meet you inside," she stated, not waiting for a reply, running with her luggage tho another way into the train.

John had no intention of meeting up with Amelia inside. Nor was he planning on sitting with his sister. She may be a first year, but she already had a following. No, John was going to sit in silence, all by himself. Sadly for him, Amelia had other plans. She found her cousin in in the last cabin, looking a bit like he was trying to hide.

"You'd think you were trying to avoid me!" she said to him. John sighed and sat up straight.

Slowly, the Hogwarts Express left the station and John knew he was stuck with his cousin for the rest of the trip.

* * *

"So..." Amelia said, attempting to break the silence that had lasted since the train rolled out of the station, "I heard you were at that... Quittich thing getting shot at. What really happened?"

"I got shot," John replied shortly. The reply and the tone on his voice shut her up. _She _should_ have _known _what had happened. She's my cousin! My mum should have told her family everything! She probably did, but Amelia wasn't paying attention then. She can be so self centered. No wonder she's a Slytherine. _

_Amelia Rose Witczak, with her long blond hair and ember eyes, staring out the window determinedly looking out the window and not at me. Sure she's a Slytherine, but she's a nice one. She's always hanging out with Ravenclaws because her house doesn't accept her. I still can't believe the sorting hat placed a muggle born in Slytherine. Hah. I can't believe my sister, cousin, and I are _all_ wizards. It's so unlikely._

"...So... how's life?" Amelia asked shaking John, for the second time that day, from deep thought. John sighed at his cousin but did not reply.

"What's wrong? Tell Amelia!" John still did not answer her.

"John!"

"I'm worried about my grades this year," John lied.

"I know what you need! You need a study buddy!"

"Who would want to study with me?" he replied sarcastically.

"I may have an idea," she smirked and took out her sketch book.

For the rest of the trip , the cousins sat in a companionable silence, John reading sometimes and thinking others, and Amelia sketching. A few hours later, they were there. Hogwarts, with all its mystery and wonder.

* * *

Did anyone notice I named John's cousin after two Doctor Who companions? Yes? No? Like? Hate? Don't worry she's not a main character. Sorry it first updated with half of the story. I don't know why it did that. Well review, favorite and/or follow!


	3. A Note

Well here is the third chapter! This is basically a filler. The next chapter is VERY exciting!

* * *

A Note

John Watson sighed, looking at the four long tables with hundreds of tittering kids at each. A few seats away sat Harry, Ron, and Hermione. John glared at them; the **_heroes_**._ I'm fine with that of course... I'd rather live a _simple_ life. Those three could do the dangerous stuff. It's not like I can even think about doing that sort of things anymore, anyway. I'm doomed to have a slow, calm, _boring_ life. Maybe I could be a doctor or a-_

"Hey, John, what do you think?" one of his friends asked.  
"Uh, I don't know, red," John replied. His friends sighed and shook their heads.  
"The _argument is about hippogriffs._ It is as to whether or not they can enjoy anything!"  
"I say they can't feel ANYTHING!"  
"And _I_ say that it's impossible for an animal not to feel anything whatsoever!"  
"They're just _animals_! They are bloody, _mindless_ magical creatures!"  
"And aren't we technically animals as well? Are we not creatures of magic as well?"  
"You're a creature!"  
"And so are you!"  
John sighed. Why were they always fighting?

Finally the sorting began, cutting the argument short. John looked over the crowd of first years, trying to spot his sister's head. He knew his sister well enough to know she was scared out of her wits about the sorting, even if she didn't show it. She was like John in that way, but as much as he hoped she would be a Gryffindor, John doubted it would happen. She wasn't very brave, sly, or wise. She _was_ very loyal and patient, though, so John assumed that she would be a Hufflepuff.

When the sorting finally got around to "Watson, Harriet", it turned out John was right. As Harriet skipped over to the Hufflepuff table she looked over at John and gave a little wave accompanied by a smile. John smiled, waved, and then gave her thumbs up, showing that she was proud of her. He really was. She was going to be a great Hufflepuff.

"Attention students..." Dumbledore said as he started his speech. As Dumbledore talked, John's mind started to wander. _Who's the new teacher? Professor Moody, Dumbledore had called him. I wander why he's called Moody. Maybe he's always moody…_

"This year, our school will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament!" Dumbledore cried. John was snapped out of his day dreaming. _Tri-what?_ A ripple went through the hall. A third of the students were asking what the Triwizard Tournament was and another third were shrugging to the ones asking the questions. Only a few people seemed to know what it was, and those who did either gasped or laughed at those who didn't know.

"QUIET,**_ QUIET!"_** Dumbledore shouted over the students and continued his speech.

* * *

John wanted to be somewhere else when the headmaster's speech was over. His friends had quickly picked up their hippogriff argument. He was quickly going tired of his friends yet again. _Why can't they just talk for once? There is more to life then arguing. But they _are _still my friends though. That's all that counts, right? I still wish we could talk about things, rather than argue about them though. _Deep in thought, and almost completely ignoring his friends, he almost didn't notice the Ministry of Magic style paper-air-plane land on his nearly finished supper. Blinking his mind clear of his thoughts, he quickly opened the letter to find it was written in his cousin's neat cursive:

Meet me outside Hufflepuff house at 10 o'clock.

-A.W.

* * *

How'd you like this chapter? The next chapter will be up in the next three days. Well, review, favorite, and/ or follow!


	4. A Meeting

At ten pm John was standing outside the pile of barrels disguising the door to the Hufflepuff house. Of you tapped the right pattern and rhythm, the barrels swing open and you can go in. Get it wrong, and you get cover in vinegar. John did not want to get covered in vinegar. _What am I doing here? I bet this is all a joke. Why else would my Slytherine cousin call me to the Hufflepuff house late at night? This doesn't make any sense. What's Amelia up to this time?_

His question was not answered when the the barrels swung open revealing his long haired cousin_._

"Come on, John! What are you doing just standing there? Don't you know the combo?" Amelia complained impatiently.

"No I don't know the combination! Why would I know the combination to a house I've never been to! I'm a Gryffindor, not a Hufflepuff! Also, I would have expected you to invite me to your house before inviting me to a house neither of us belong to!" a frustrated Watson replied. Amelia sighed let her cousin enter.

John hadn't known what to expect. He'd never been to a house that wasn't his own, so he was slightly taken aback by the domed ceiling and bright yellow tapestries. It was quiet, except for the small group of butter beer drinking students on the other end of the round room. _I bet Harry's one of them. She's always been one to 'party'._

"Oh come ooon, John! Enough time wasting! We don't want to miss him!" Amelia whined, grabbing John's sleeve and dragging him over to one of the circular wall. She pressed a stone and a small, shoulder width tunnel opened up. Amelia pulled him in so hard that it almost took him off his feet.

"What is this? Why is it so dark? Why in the bloody world did you bring me here? I could be sleeping!" John complained.

Amelia sighed, "Helga Hufflepuff decided that her students needed somewhere to practice making potions, so she created this tunnel to a potions lab. She wanted to make it small and undetectable, so there wasn't any room for torches. And if you really cared about the dark use your wand! We're almost there."

She was right. Johann could see a light ahead of them. When they finally broke free of the tunnel, John had to wait for his eyes to a adjust. The walls were white and the room was brightly lit. When he could see again he saw three tables in a moderately sized room (bigger than a closet, smaller than the dormitories). On each table there were cauldrons of all sizes add shapes, ingredients to potions John had never seen before, and all sorts of tool that not even Snape had.

John huffed, "We certainly don't have one of these."

A boy, about his age but taller and with black, curly hair, looked up from some sort of looking glass.

"World Cup or isolated Death Easter incident?" he asked, his intelligent, multicolored eyes boring into John's soul.


	5. An Introduction

Hello readers! I just realized how bloody short my chapters are. I'm very sorry about that. I wish they were longer for your sake, but I stop the chapter where it needs to happen. This chapter (one of my favorites) is the continuation of the last one. I sorta cut it in half while writing it for my friend, so that's how I put it on here. I apologize for making this so long, but hey! It happens.

* * *

John shifted his weight from one foot to another, but realized it was his bad leg and switched back.

"I'm sorry?" John asked, taken aback by the question.

"Were you injured in a some unknown attack, or at the World Cup?" the boy repeated. John looked to Amelia. _She_ must_ have __told him something. How else would he know?_

"The World Cup," he answered.

"Hm," the black haired boy with the blue and bronze scarf and black cloak said, "Amelia, I need a piece of parchment."

"Sorry, I don't have any," she replied holding up empty hands.

"Oh! Hang on a sec, I've got some," John replied digging around in his pockets and finding some paper in one of them. He always carried parchment with him, because if he finds something he wants to write about it's best to have something to write it on.

"Wh- Thank you," the other boy said quietly, startled. The boy took the paper and scribbled: _If brother has green painted broom, arrest brother. _He then folded it into a paper air plane and whispered something to it. The paper air plane began to float, and the boy grabbed it before it could get away. At that moment, a brown haired Hufflepuff girl walked in.

"Ah, Molly, there you are. Please escort this out of the house," the boy said to her. The girl- _Molly_- stammered with frustration and fiddled with her hair. As she was about to protest the boy exclaimed monotone in his low voice, "Molly! Have you done something new with your hair?"

Molly blushed, smiled, and said, "Why ye-"

"And make sure it finds a window!" he interrupted. He released the air plane and Molly followed it down the the tunnel!

"Right then. How about the library and eight pm tomorrow?"

"I'm sorry?" John asked, visibly confused by the strange boy.

"You do want a study partner, correct?"

"How did you-"

"I bumped into Amelia on the train today, and said that I would be a difficult person to find a study partner for, and here you are,"

"We've only just met and we're going to be study buddies? We don't know a thing about each other! I don't know where in the library we will be meeting. I don't even know your name!" John cried.

"I know you recently got out of St. Mungo's. Your doctors think your limp is psychosomatic, and they are quite correct. You are muggle born, and so is your brother Harry, most likely named after that rubbish Gryffindor that keeps causing trouble. You like to write, but after the World Cup you have had no inspiration to. Your family is worried about you, because you keep distancing yourself from them. Your not _really_ looking for a study partner, but with the bullying your expecting you feel that the only way you will be able to keep up with your school work is if you have help," the boy said without taking a breath. He stood up, gathered his things and walked into the tunnel. Suddenly he turned around, with a hand on each side of the tunnel, he leaned in and said,  
"The name is Sherlock Holmes and the isle is 221 B."

* * *

EEE! That deduction was a lot of fun. The next chapter is really fun too. I am excited to explain Sherlock's reasoning. Yes I made him a Ravenclaw. If you think about it, it makes sense, and you will be ahead when Sherlock explains later on. Also, both John and Sherlock thought or spoke about the 'Golden Trio' with annoyance, and actually for the same reason. Who can deduce what it is? It's almost so obvious Anderson could figure it out. I mentioned how short this was going to be in the longest chapter yet. Ha. Well, that's enough chat. Please review, favorite, and/or follow!


	6. An Isle

Hello readers! I'm sorry for the wait. Band camp was extremely tiring and I had no time to update. I was also working on another story which I recently published on this site. It is a series of one-shots about John Watson being stubborn through his life. In similar news, my school starts on Monday, meaning I will have less time to update, but more time to write. So here it is!

* * *

John couldn't fall asleep. He couldn't get the last six hours out of his head. First his cousin gets some crazy idea. the next she's dragging him to the Hufflepuff house to meet _Sherlock Holmes._ _Who the_ _'ell names their kid _Sherlock_? Why was he in that lab? Why would he need a study buddy? He seems pretty smart. **Who is Sherlock**** Holmes?**_

Getting tired of just laying there, John stood up and started pacing. _I need to look him up. I need to find out who he is. How can I do that? It's not like he's going to be in the newspaper or something, he's just a kid. I won't find him in a book either. He's too young. ER! This is so irritating! _John sighed with exasperation and stooped down to look through his trunk as quietly as possible, so he didn't wake anyone else up. Searching through his possessions, he found one of Harriet's magazines. Not bothering to wonder why she had put it there, he skipped to looking through it because on the cover, there a title that said, _'A Guide to Deduction, by Sherlock Holmes'._ Finding the chapter by the young mysterious boy, he read through the entire thing. Apparently this kid said he could tell a pilot by his thumb and a Ministry worker by their robes. _Interesting..._he thought to himself, digging around again to see if there were any other magazines.

No such luck. The only other thing _Holmes _related was in the Daily Prophet about his father doing business with the Ministry. Not that that wasn't enough to know that Sherlock's family was a big deal. It told John that he shouldn't continue his acquaintance with Sherlock. It also told him that he would continue his acquaintance with Sherlock. He had a habit of not doing the thing that was best for his safety and sanity. With that in mind, John Watson found he was finally able to fall asleep. Not that it was an extremely restful sleep, but it was sleep nevertheless.

-~o~-

At eight p.m. the next day, John found his way to the library, and searched for Isle 221 B. '_The Science of Deduction_' the isle was called, much to John's confusion. _What in the world is the science of deduction?_ John asked himself.

"Hello, John Watson. I see you found your way," a deep voice said from behind him. Turning around, he saw the tall dark haired Sherlock Holmes standing before him, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Uh, yeah. And it's just John, alright?" John replied, masking his shock about how quiet the other boy was.

"Alright, then just call me Sherlock," Sherlock answered.

"Okay..." John replied, the two finding themselves in a bit of an awkward silence.

"Well, it took you long enough to get he-"

"Says the one who got here after me," John interrupted sarcastically.

Sherlock seemed taken aback slightly at the comment but continued, "-re, but here you are. '_Home sweet home_' as they say."

"Yeah, as they say. '_The Science of Deduction', _an interesting choice. I thought wizards pointed and laughed at science," John commented.

"Yes, well, most wizards do, but I do not. I find it fascinating, depending on the area of study. Anyway, with is the science of _deduction,_ not some other muggle rubbish like _marine biology_," Sherlock hissed in reply.

"Yes well, I still think it's still a bit strange to find in a magic school's library," John said under his breath.

"You should. Most people do,"

That irritated John slightly. He liked being like everyone else, but he still got annoyed when he was grouped with them. As much as he liked being 'normal', he didn't like it when others thought of him as so. He also didn't like it when people thought they were above him.

"Well are we going to stand here all evening or are we actually going to go in?" John asked shortly.

"Go right ahead," Sherlock replied, seemingly pleased with the response he got from John.

The isle was a mess. There were papers scattered everywhere. Books were messily stacked on piles on tables and on the floor. There was also a skull on one of the shelves, which was worth noticing. It was surprising how messy the place was, since it was only the second day back to Hogwarts, but there is was.

"So... what do you think? Is it workable?" Sherlock asked walking in behind John.

"It's a bit messy..." John replied.

"Yes, well, I can certainly tidy up..." Sherlock replied quickly grabbing some papers and attempting to put them in a neat pile.

"It's alright, Ho- I mean Sherlock. Don't worry about it," John said picking up a scrap of newspaper that said, '**_World Cup Disaster! House Elf to_****_ Blame?_**'. John quickly read the article then rolled his eyes in disgust.

"What do you think of this?" John asked, tossing the paper to the other boy, who was looking on a shelf for something.

Catching the paper and skimming over the article and replied, "I was going to ask you the same question..." and continued his search.

"So..." John said sitting down, not liking the silence, "I looked you up last night..."

"Oh? Anything interesting?"

"I found your column in a magazine. Also your dad in the newspaper working with the Ministry," John replied.

"Bah. Father's business is boring. Did you find anything interesting in my column?"

"You said something about being able to tell a quittich player by their stance and a muggleborn simply by their eyes," John answered.

"You don't seem to believe that it's true," Sherlock murmured, "but if it wasn't true, then how did I know you were a muggleborn yourself?"

"Why are we here _today_? We haven't learned anything yet!"

"I merely wanted to show you-" Suddenly a 6th year Gryffendor burst into their isle.

"Ah, Lestrade! I assume something is different this time?" Sherlock inquired.

Lestrade nodded and replied,"There's a note."

"Yes well, thank you. Where is it this time?" Sherlock asked.

"Second floor girl's bathroom," Lestrade replied.

"Thank you, Lestrade. You're always _so _helpful. We'll see you there! Off you go!" Sherlock exclaimed dramatically. Lestrade gave a nod and left. As soon as he was out of earshot Sherlock cried, "Triple homicide, and now a note! Oh, Mrs. Hudson, it's like Christmas!"

"Oh dear. You're to happy. It's never good when you're this happy," Mrs. Hudson the librarian exclaimed as Sherlock hopped with joy then rushed out of the library.

"Oh but you're staying right? You seem more like the sitting down type like me. What with your leg-"

"SCREW MY LEG!" John shouted slamming his fist onto the table, "Sorry! I'm sorry."

"It's alright dear, I understand. I've got my hip." She replied scurrying off to organize some books.

"You're a doctor. An _army doctor _at that," Sherlock said appearing at the entrance putting on gloves and fixing his Ravenclaw scarf.

"Yes..."

"Any good?"

"Yes. _Very. Good,"_

"Seen a lot of injuries? A lot of violent deaths?"

"Yes. Enough for a lifetime, far to much,"

"Want to see some more?"

"Oh god yes," John said limping off after the ever mysterious Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

Oh! I almost left it at Sherlock leaving and John following with a sigh. BUT I DIDN'T! YOU'RE WELCOME! Anyway, I really enjoyed that ending. So, PLEASE tell me how much YOU enjoyed it by reviewing, favoriting, and/ or following!


	7. A Murder

I'm sorry readers! I lost my ruff draft of this, and I have been up to my skull in marching band crud! I'm sorry this is so late, but it's here now, please enjoy.

* * *

At around 8:45 pm, John and Sherlock were in the second floor girl's bathroom. Myrtle was being questioned by three 5th years with badges.

"I don't know when it happened! I was in the b- I was out. When I came back, it was here. **_Dead._**I don't know what happened," Myrtle whined. Sherlock and John were just about to cross the rope with the sign, 'Scotland Seekers only, plus teachers,' when a 5th year girl with dark skin and frizzy hair stepped in front of them.

"Oh look, the freak's here! And who's this?" she asked looking at John.

"My associate," Sherlock glared going under the rope and holding it up for the shorter boy with a limp.

"Associate? Since when do you have associates?" the girl asked.

"The better question is: when is Anderson's girlfriend coming back from her vacation?" Sherlock practically hissed.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

It's obvious you spent the night at his house, given the fact that your hair isn't brushed and you are wearing the same robes you were yesterday,"

"Okay, I spent the night. My dad couldn't pick me up so I stayed with him, what's wrong with that?"

"The state of your knees," Sherlock smirked walking off with John behind him.

"Who's this lot?" John asked.

"A bunch of idiots that run around trying and failing to solve mysteries, like this murder..." the tall boy trailed off looking at the floor.

There was a house elf on the tile floor, it's big eyes wide and motionless, a small, empty potion bottle had rolled from it's grip.

"Oh God," John whispered looking away.

"No signs of a fight. The potion seems to have been taken on the elf's free will. But look what she wrote on the tiles," Lestrade stated. Looking around the body, John saw that the elf had scratched, 'röt' on the hard floor.

"Rot?" John asked.

"It's Röt, which is Swedish for roared," a smug officer smirked.

"Yes, Anderson, because in her last moments, the house elf decided to write _roared_ in her final moments," Sherlock said sarcastically slamming the door to the stall the annoying boy had been in shut. Sherlock then knelt by the body again.

"Where's the bag?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"What bag?" Lestrade sighed.

"The one she was carrying! Look at her dress, you can see that it's wet at the bottom, meaning she walked in or near a small body of water. It hasn't rained in hours and most of the cobblestone has dried up, meaning she was outside the walls before she came here. The only reason she would have been sent outside was if she was gathering something, which means she would have had a bag or a sack of some sort! Look at the spash marks on her leg. Thar means she was carrying something that was splashing water back on her, which would be a bag! Now where is it? Don't tell me one of you idiots moved it," Sherlock explained quickly.

"Has anyone seen a sack or a bag or something? No? Sorry, Sherlock, there's no bag. Maybe she dropped it on the way here," Lestrade said playing along.

Sherlock grumbled under his breath and walked out into the hallway. When John tried to follow, his leg slowed him down so much that when he got outside the bathroom, Sherlock was no where to be seen.

"Where'd he go?" John asked the air.

"He left," the mean officer that had originally stopped them said to him, "he does that. I wouldn't hang out with him if I were you. He's trouble. Do you know why he's here? It's not like he gets payed or gets credits or anything. _He gets off on it_. He does this because he thinks it's fun. I say, one day just solving the case won't be enough. One day we're going to be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes is going to be the one that put it there."

* * *

I was going to add the last bit, but I decided not to and leave it there. I also almost added the next scene with this one, but when it became already two whole pages, I decided it deserved it's own chapter. This one isn't as long as the last one, but the next one will make up for it. Tell me what you think! Please review, favorite or follow!


	8. A Letter to the Readers

I'm sorry, and I really hate these things, but I had to make this. I've got the next chapter all written up, but I've lost inspiration to share it. No one reviewed the last chapter, except my friend who I kind of forced into it, and it made me lose interest in this story. If you want me to continue this, PLEASE tell me. I've got other stories going on right now, and they seem far more interesting and likely to me liked than this one, so if you like this, tell me. I love that people liked this, but now that no one seems to like it any more, I don't see a reason to continue. I started this for a friend, and I haven't seen her in months. I love this story, but I need inspiration. PLEASE! I know these chapters are annoying, but with marching band and high school, I just don't have time.

Your elf,

Zeef


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